


Day4 - Secret Santa with Oliver Wood

by musicalcrimescene



Series: Harry Potter 12 Days of Christmas [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Best Friends, Christmas Fluff, Crushes, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, George and Reader are just friends, Getting Together, Kissing, Love, Mutual Pining, Pining, Prompt was that reader goes over the price limit, Quidditch, Romance, Secret Santa, she goes above and beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:06:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28164462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalcrimescene/pseuds/musicalcrimescene
Summary: Every year, the Gryffindors do a Secret Santa. This year, Reader gets Oliver Wood.
Relationships: George Weasley & Reader, Oliver Wood/Reader
Series: Harry Potter 12 Days of Christmas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055726
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Day4 - Secret Santa with Oliver Wood

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I didn't post yesterday, I know, but I plan on catching up at some point lol. I know this one is late today too, but it's before midnight so it counts! 
> 
> Here's day 4! Another Oliver Wood story with an idea I thought was adorable. We got some secret Santa and some adorable mutual pining, two of my favorite tropes, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Much love and thanks <3

By third year, it had become tradition for the Gryffindors to do a secret santa before winter break. It started off with your year, suggested by Alicia - she had spent a year in America and fell in love with their strange ‘Santa’ tradition - and pushed on by the always enthusiastic Weasley twins. You joined in, just becoming friends with the Gryffindors your age, and had Lee Jordan. You bought him a bag full of Zonko’s finest and you’ve been friends with each other since.

The tradition continued in your second year, this time with the Weasleys’ younger brother and his friends joining in. That year you had Hermione and couldn’t believe your luck. Getting her a gift was easy enough, you just had to look for an interesting book or two. The two of you have been friends since then as well.

It can really only be called a tradition after third year - there’s a saying about it all, you’re pretty sure - and so you’ve all continued the secret santa from then on. Over the years you’ve had Fred, Harry, Lee again, and Angelina. Even during times of tension and fighting (as there almost always is with Harry around), the tradition continued and acted as a warm reminder of the friendship you’ve all formed in your common room.

The tradition is about to continue on once more as you all gather in the common room around the fire, laughing and shouting at one another as Angelina sets up the bowl with everyone’s names. You’re currently seated on the ground, leaning back on the legs of a cackling George and Katie Bell after a wonderfully accurate impression of Snape from, surprisingly, Neville Longbottom. Alicia and Angelina were muttering off to the side, making sure everyone’s name was in the bowl. 

Gazing around, the ghost of a laugh still in your mouth, you meet the eyes of Oliver Wood on the couch opposite you. Out of everyone here, Oliver is the one you’ve spoken to the least. It took a few years to even convince him to join in on the tradition. Even when he did start participating, you’ve never had much in common with him, you shared only a few classes despite being in the same year, and neither of you have had each other for secret santa.

Even so, despite having only spoken to him a handful of times, you give him a bright smile. His eyebrows raise for a moment before he gives a slow smile back. It looks more like a smirk than anything, but you’ll take what you can get. 

The smiling doesn’t last long. Angelina shouts out for us to shut it, and we do, still with smiles on our faces and hints of laughter.

“Alright,” she says. “Person who was last to pick last year gets to go first now. Who was it?” With a nudge from George, Fred rises from beside him, reaching his hand in with a grin on his face as he feels around.

“Oh, come on,” you say with a grin on your face. “No cheating, Weasley. Every piece feels the same.” George cheers on from behind you and places a hand on the top of your head, rubbing it like you’re a child. 

“Come on, Freddie!” He hells. With dramatic flourish, Fred whips out a piece of parchment into the air, grinning as he reads it. With a wink directed at no one in particular, he takes his seat back beside George, who quickly asks who it is. They share it with one another, of course. Not a year goes by that they don’t.

Up next is Alicia, who reaches in without the dramatics and clutches the paper to her chest, reading it with a small smile. Lee goes next, making grabbing motions at Angelina until she hands it over to him with a sigh. Lee is not known for his poker face, and so we all laugh as he looks at his paper with a huff. Poor Parvati must know it’s her, again, for the third time in a year. She sighs as well, shrugging to her sister. 

Angelina continues to pass the hat around, sticking her own in there at some point. Eventually it gets to Wood, and you’re not sure why but you watch with more interest than with the others. He hesitates a moment, receiving a nudge from Harry until he reaches his hand in, not reacting a bit when he reads his slip of parchment. His eyes briefly flick to you and you feel a strange reaction in your chest, but you write it off as feeling as though you were caught snooping. Perhaps your staring is more noticeable than you though.

A few more people go by, and the hat finally comes to you. You smile and wiggle your body in excitement as you reach your hand in, feeling around. There are only a few pieces of parchment left, and you decide to grab the first one you touch. With a large smile, you pull the piece close to you, batting away George’s prying hand as you read it.

There, written in Angelina’s handwriting, is the name Oliver Wood. Your smile freezes for a moment, unsure of yourself. Oliver is a nice bloke, you’ve always thought so, but you’ve no clue what to get for him. It’s alright, though, you think. You’ll sort out what to get him later on.

Trying to be subtle, you look over at Katie who currently has her hand in the hat, but direct your eyes over to Oliver. He’s leaning back on the couch, smiling slightly, looking calm but pleasant. You stare for a moment longer, appreciating the time to simply look without him noticing.

You haven’t noticed until now, but he really is quite good looking with his shortish hair, thin-lipped smile and dark eyes. His skin is smooth and even, paler than usual with his Scottish complexion during winter. He laughs at something George calls out and you can’t help but smile yourself. When he isn’t so serious, he’s actually quite lovely to look at.

You look away before you’re caught, flushing. Perhaps it was the upcoming holidays, or maybe it was the warm light of the fire on his skin that makes him look golden, but your stomach starts to twist on itself as you continue thinking about Oliver. You bring your hands up to your cheeks, squeezing your eyes shut. You’ve been single nearly your entire time at Hogwarts with only a brief relationship during your fifth year. You blame these feelings on the fact that you just haven’t been interested in anyone for a while.

When you manage to calm yourself down a bit, you focus back in on the conversation. Everyone has received a person’s name on their pieces of parchment and now it’s back to the casual talking and laughing. You join in for a bit, occasionally - more than occasionally - finding yourself looking Oliver’s way, usually for much longer than you should be. A few times he looks back and catches you looking at him and so you quickly look away with a flush. After every one of those instances, every time you eventually look back at him he’s already looking at you.

After the strange feelings become a bit much and you’ve been up a bit too late, you stand and excuse yourself, saying you’re heading to bed. Your friends tease you for being what they call an ‘old lady,’ but after some banter half of them decide to follow your lead. 

Oliver is one of them, and as he stands you can’t help but watch his hands settle on his thighs as he pushes himself up. His shirt tightens around his arms as he stands, and for a brief moment you see the outline of biceps you never knew he had. Not as though you’ve thought about it before, but you suppose it makes sense with the near-constant quidditch training.

You stare for another moment before turning away, stomach doing another one of its flips. Silently cursing yourself, you turn away and head towards the stairs leading to the girl’s dormitories. As you walk away, you feel eyes on the back of your head and turn briefly as you step up the spiral staircase. There, across the room still standing near the couch, is Oliver watching as you leave. 

Neither of you look away this time, though you do flush a bit. You hope the distance and lack of lighting in the room prevents him from noticing. After a moment he smiles and it’s beautiful. You’re staring at his lovely mouth, and though you can’t hear him, you watch as he mouths the words good night. You flick your eyes back up to his and grin a bid wider with a nod. You mouth the words back and turn back to the stairs. The smile doesn’t leave your mouth even as you fall asleep.

**********

You frown as you sit in the quidditch stands with Hermione. The two of you are currently watching the Gryffindor team practice, something you usually never do. Yes, you’re good friends with many of the players, but sitting out in the cold for two hours watching practice for a game you don’t understand has never really appealed to you. Nevertheless, after confiding in Hermione as to who you have for secret santa, she managed to convince you to come out and do some reconnaissance on him.

So far, though, you have nothing. You’ve been watching for a full hour already, bouncing ideas off your friend, but nothing has felt quite right so far. You’ll admit that watching him fly around on his broom, trouser stretched across his thighs as he shouts commands at the team - his team - is quite distracting.

You’ve also confided these new, interesting feelings to Hermione, who laughed with her head tilted back for a full twenty seconds. Once she was finished, she wiped her eyes and said, “I can’t believe you fancy Wood. I think it’s nice, though. He really could stand to loosen up a bit.” You raise an eyebrow.

“And how does me fancying him help loosen him up?” You’re still uncertain about the whole ‘fancying him’ bit, but with a sigh and knowing smirk from Hermione, you know it’s pointless to argue. You suppose now that you think about it, the signs are all there: the distracted staring, the appreciation of his smile (and mouth in general), the curiosity and flips in your stomach whenever he looks at you.

Hermione laughs again. “Well, I think having a girlfriend will help him let his guard down a bit. The boy’s always on about quidditch and practice. He needs something else in his life.” You flush and straighten up.

“Hermione! I’m not- Why would you- We aren’t dating! And we certainly aren’t going to. This is just a week-long fancy and I’ll be over it by next Saturday, I guarantee you.” Hermione looks at you dubiously but shrugs.

“Sure, sure. If you’re over him by next Saturday, then I’ll leave it alone. But if you’re not…” At this, she gives you a sidelong glance as you push her with your shoulder, rolling your eyes away from her.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” With that the two of you go back to watching the practice, your eyes spending an exorbitant amount of time on a certain keeper. Your eyes follow him as he zips from one hoop to the next, blocking quaffles left and right. Your eyebrows raise. He really is quite impressive. All the training hours seem to have paid off.

He blocks yet another quaffle with the end of his broom and you watch as he frowns. Bristles fall off the end of his broom and he sighs. Now that you’re paying attention, his broom really does seem worn down. There’s a crack that’s visible even from your position in the stands, and his broom end seems much less full than, say, Harry’s broom.

You shoot up straight, snapping your fingers with a laugh. “Hermione, that’s it! I’ve got the perfect gift idea for him!” She looks at you expectantly, startled surprise still on her face.

“A new broom! I mean, look at his, it’s practically rubbish at this point. I’m surprised the bloody thing can even fly. It’s perfect!” He nods for a moment before giggling, hiding her hand behind her mouth. You frown.

“What? Why are you laughing.” She averts her eyes for a moment, but glances at you again from the corner of them.

“Been looking at his broom much, have you?” You flush from your neck to your ears and you swat her arm. 

“Hermione!” She just continues laughing, and eventually you give in and laugh with her. She’s a fiend, she is.

The two of you stay for the rest of quidditch practice, but you start to head out as she waits for Harry and Ron.

“You sure you don’t want to walk back with us?” You smile and shake your head.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve got some studying to do, so I should probably head back now. I’ll see you later though, yeah?” With a nod from her, you turn and start heading back.

You manage to walk for about two minutes before you hear your name called out from behind you. Turning around, you see Oliver Wood striding up the hill behind you. Your eyebrows scrunch together, but you pause, waiting for him to catch up with you. When he finally does, he gives you a breathless (breathtaking) smile and you return it, curiosity still on your face.

“Wood, hey… Um, what are you doing here? I thought it took you guys longer to be ready to leave.” Your eyes flicker down his body, taking in the quidditch robes he’s still wearing, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and broom perched on his other shoulder. His cheeks are pink, but you figure that’s from the wind and chill.

He shrugs. “It does, if you want to change and shower down in the quidditch tents. Which I usually don’t.” You nod. The two of you stand in silence for a moment before you gesture back to the castle.

“Well, care to join me, then? Since you’ve gotten out so early.” His smile lights back up as he nods. As the two of you begin to walk, you take the time to glance over his broom. You try and think of a casual way to bring up what kind of broom he’d want.

“So,” you say, trying to seem as casual as possible. “I don’t know much about quidditch. You’re a keeper though, right?” You glance over at him as he nods, eyes focused on his footing but occasionally glancing over at you. His cheeks are still pink.

“Yeah, I am. Not the most glamorous position, but I’d like to think I’ve gotten quite good at it.” You smile when he meets your eyes. He seems to pause for a moment before slowly smiling back.

“Well, I know I’ve only watched this one practice, but from what I saw you’re not quite good but quite incredible. There wasn’t a single quaffle you didn’t block somehow.” He lets out a laugh, turning to you.

“You were watching me throughout practice, then?” You flush hot at the tone of his voice and the self-implication you just revealed to him. You turn away. Looking at his smile any longer than you already have would surely lead to heart failure.

You shrug it off. “Well, not the whole time.” He chuckles. “I suppose I thought it would make sense to watch the most talented player if I’m to learn anything about quidditch. I mean, I assume you’re the captain for a reason.” 

You glance back at him and see his eyes widen for a moment, a small smile and deep blush on his face. He shrugs as well, clearly too bashful to say anything in return. You continue on.

“So, Mr. Keeper, tell me. This might seem a silly question, but that broom of yours-” you nod towards it - “is it made for Keepers? Or, I guess my actual question is, are certain brooms better for certain positions?” It takes you a bit, but after a moment you realize how exactly your words came out. You wince a bit and glance over at him. He looks half surprised, half embarrassed.

“I mean,” you correct, hand reaching out to grab his arm, “Well, I meant quidditch. Not- not anything else. I certainly wouldn’t…” You wince again. “Not to say that I don’t think you wouldn't know, I’m honestly not sure if you do, but this is becoming a bit of a disaster and I don’t think-” You’re cut off by his laughter. He’s stopped walking, and so you do as well. For a moment you’re relieved, because at least laughing at you is better than being freaked out or running away.

After a second, though, you’re much too distracted to be relieved. His laugh, sweet Merlin, is one of the most beautiful things you think you’ve ever seen or heard. His head is tilted back, his mouth open, his throat exposed and shaking with the force of it all. You’re not sure a laugh has any right making you feel the way you do, and yet here you were, feeling all gushy and stunned by Oliver’s laugh.

Eventually he calms down and you think it’s the greatest tragedy you’ve ever witnessed. That thought’s quickly erased, however, when he grins and winks at you. Your face has never felt so hot.

“It’s alright, lass, I know what you mean.” He looks down a bit, and it’s only now that you remember your hand is still on his arm. Your stomach flips at the realization, and you only now notice just how firm his arm is. It takes a lot of effort, but you yank your hand back and clear your throat. After a moment, the both of you continue walking.

“And to answer your question, there aren’t really any brooms that are better than others for certain positions. The nicer the broom, the better off you are, generally.” You nod at his answer, but he continues. “Of course, a seeker always wants a broom that values speed over anything. Agility is something to consider as well…” 

As he continues on about certain brooms and their qualities, you smile a bit. You’ve heard your friends complain a bit about Oliver and how he can talk about quidditch for hours without realizing you’ve already fallen asleep. Now, being at the receiving end of his near-lecture, you can’t help but feel how wrong they are. There is absolutely nothing boring about this boy and his passion for quidditch.

Eventually he trails off when the two of you have reached the castle. He winces and rubs the back of his neck as he looks up at the large double doors. The two of you pause again.

“Er, sorry about that. I know I have a bit of a one-track mind, and all.” You shake your head, still smiling.

“No, never apologize Oliver.” His eyebrows shoot up at this and you press on. You’re not sure why, but nearly every bone in your body is telling you to make sure this boy feels appreciated and listened to. It’s almost primal, how badly you want him to know that you truly enjoyed listening to him. You lean forward a bit in emphasis. 

“I thought it was all fascinating, Oliver. I mean, you know so much about it all, it’s so impressive!” Your hands fly up at this and continue to gesture around as you speak. “I thought it was just a wooden stick with some smaller twigs at the end that can fly. When you talk about it, though, it’s clearly much more than that. It’s like art almost, you know? It’s brilliant.” 

Your panting a bit at the end of your speech. You suppose you got a bit carried away and flush, pulling your arms back to your stomach as you glance away from him. You clear your throat.

“Just… don’t apologize. At least, not to me. I’ll always enjoy listening to it.” When you finally look back at him, Oliver has a strange intensity about him. His eyes are focused completely on you and though you’ve been standing for a few minutes now, he seems out of breath. 

You smile a bit, nervous about his reaction. Though, the boy did just spend ten minutes talking to you about brooms, so you suppose he can’t be that put off.

Eventually he croaks something out. “I… um, thank you. I really… well. No one has ever said that before. So, thanks, lass.” His hand is at the back of his neck again and you smile a bit, butterflies piling into your stomach. With a gentle gesture, the two of you start walking through the double doors and up the main staircase. You walk the rest of the way to the common room in silence, but it’s not at all awkward. It’s actually more comfortable than you thought it could be with someone you’ve barely spoken to.

By the time you get there, you remember that you were going to study in the library. You pause, turning to him as he gives the password to the Fat Lady. Before you can say anything, though, he turns quickly to you, face a bit red and nervous looking.

“Er… I was wondering, um, did you ever finish that essay for potions?” You blink for a moment before understanding what he’s talking about.

“Oh, um, no, I haven’t actually.” He smiles a bit and nods to himself, glancing sideways.

“D’you want to work on it together? I’m a bit shite at potions, and have no idea where to start.” You let out an airy laugh and nod your head. He seems to relax at this, posture straightening a bit.

“I was actually about to head to the library now. I know you’ve got to shower, and all,” you gesture at his gear and he gives a lopsided grin. “But I could meet you in the library after, if you want.” He nods eagerly, quickly stepping up into the common room.

“Sure. I’ll meet you there, lass.” With one last smile, the portrait closes behind him and you’re grinning at the Fat Lady. You spin on your heel, heading towards the library with that grin still on your face.

**********

A week later, you’re sitting with Hermione in the quidditch stands once more. You’re not even trying to hide the fact that you’re watching Oliver and she laughs a bit.

“So,” she says, voice edging on teasing. “It’s Saturday. Do you still fancy Wood?” With a light laugh, you flicker your eyes over towards her before rolling them back to the pitch where Oliver just saved another quaffle from going through the hoop.

Your study date (it was not a date, you insisted to an overly curious Hermione) last week was more wonderful than time in the library has any right to be. You read your textbook for a bit while waiting for Oliver. When he finally arrived, freshly showered and smelling like an Adonis, the two of you began your potions essay. It took much longer than it should have, entirely due to the fact that you couldn’t stop teasing and talking to one another as though you’ve been friends for years.

It’s strange, you think, how you had really only known him for a day and yet could be so comfortable around him. It’s only a week later, and his presence has become more comforting than butterfly inducing. The butterflies are still there, of course, but you’re no longer nervous about seeing him. Instead, you’re excited and horribly impatient while waiting for the next moment you can see him.

It’s because of this that you once more find yourself watching practice. As your eyes follow Oliver, you can’t but smile to yourself, remembering what you said to Hermione a week ago. This is just a week-long fancy and I’ll be over it by next Saturday. You snort. You certainly proved yourself wrong.

“Now that I’ve started fancying him, Hermione, I can’t imagine myself stopping.” She gives a resounding laugh at that, and you smile back without removing your eyes from the pitch. For a moment, just a brief one, you think you see Oliver glancing over at you. You think it’s a trick of the light until he does it again, looking over at you for longer than the first time.

He meets your eyes and now you’re sure. He gives a smile, one you can only just see from this far away. You straighten up and give a wide grin back. Your heart is fluttering in your chest until his attention is forced back to the pitch as another quaffle comes his way.

“Oh, Merlin,” you hear Hermione say, voice full of mirth and amusement. You lean against her side, sighing. Oh, Merlin indeed.

**********

Another week passes until it’s a Hogsmeade weekend, and by then you’re biting your thumb nail in nerves as you hop off the carriage and head into town. Fred, George, and Angelina hop off the carriage behind you, George coming up to wrap his arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, love, the gift exchange isn’t until tonight. You’ve got all day to get your lad a gift.” You whirl around on him, still full of nerves. 

“I know, but what if I don’t find what I’m looking for? What do I do then? Oh, Merlin, it was a mistake to wait this long.” Fred laughs behind you, hand gripping Angelina’s who’s smiling at you as well.

“Don’t worry,” she says, much more supportive than George. “I’m sure we’ll find something. We’ve got all day.” You nod, bringing your thumb back up to your mouth to bite the nail. And this rate you’ll have no nails left to bite.

“Alright,” you say, trying to calm yourself down. “Let’s go, then.” You grab George by the sleeve and drag him behind you until eventually he manages to steady himself, catching up to you in one short stride so you no longer have to pull him. As you enter the main part of the village, your eyes immediately go to the quidditch shop down the street. With a grin, you look up at George before rushing over, his sleeve still in your hand.

You push the door to the shop open and breath in the smell of wood, polish, and leather. It’s a comforting, relaxing smell, you think. It also reminds you of Oliver who nearly always smells like this. You flush a bit but grin, inhaling a deep breath before moving deeper into the shop.

Looking around, it’s a bit overwhelming. You still know almost nothing about quidditch, but you feel somewhat more confident in your broom knowledge since Oliver’s rant. You turn back to George, who’s watching you in amusement.

“I believe he said the Nimbus ones are good, right? Or maybe the bolty ones…” You ignore George’s huff of laughter as you wander over to the fancier looking brooms, eyes wide in awe. They’re much more sleek compared to Oliver’s current broom, polished and shiny and brand new. You want to reach out and touch them, but you’re afraid of damaging something so nice.

George comes up behind you. “The Nimbus 2001 is quite nice, yeah, but expensive too. And you mean the Firebolt love. Best broom there is, right now.” You grin as you walk along the wall with brooms lined up on it, stopping when you reach the one labeled Firebolt.

Grinning, you point to it and look up at George. “I want this one.” His eyebrows raise and he laughs, though you’re not sure why. You don’t let him stop you, though, instead walking to the front of the store where the shopkeeper is sitting behind his desk. There are only a few other students around the shop, none of whom are Oliver, and so you walk up to him with a smile on your face.

“Hello,” you say, and he smiles up at you.

“Hello, darling! What can I do for you?” You place one hand on top of the counter, pointing the other to where George is still standing by the Firebolt, eyes now ridiculously wide as he watches you speak to the salesman.

“I’d like to purchase a Firebolt, please.” The man’s eyebrows rise as far as you think they can on his head, but he nods his head furiously.

“Oh, yes, of course! Let me get that for you right away, then.” You smile as he shuffles over and grabs one of the shiny new brooms, pulling it down and bringing it back to the table. You watch as he carefully wraps the broom in paper, tying it off with a bit of string. You frown a bit.

“Um… I’m sorry, this is an odd request, but do you think you can make the paper red? It’s a gift, you see, and the color red goes quite well with him.” You flush a bit at the excessive information you give, but the older man gives you a sweet smile and nods, casting a quick charm on the parchment. It turns into a beautiful burgundy color and you grin.

“Perfect,” you say, trying to hold yourself back from snatching it up right then. The man gives you a smile in return and turns to his cash box, writing out a receipt. 

“Alright, then, that’ll be 200 galleons.” You frown a bit. It’s certainly an expensive broom, but you had come prepared after looking at Harry’s quidditch magazines. Reaching into your bag, you pull out a decently-sized sack of galleons and drop it on the counter in front of you. You listen as George comes up behind you, laughing not with mirth but sheer incredulity. The man in front of you seems to be doing the same as he opens the bag and begins the tedious job of counting out 200 galleons. 

Waiting patiently, you turn to George, dreading what he’s about to say. One look at his face and he has practically no need to say the words out loud. He does anyway.

“Merlin, are you bloody rich? Who the fuck just pulls out 200 galleons?” His eyes are wide and there’s a shocked smile on his face. You shrug, staring at the floor. His hands dig through his hair as he continues yelling. “How did I not know this? We’ve been friends for ages, and you never told me you're bleeding rich?”

You frown at him. “I’m not rich.” He gestures wildly at the sack of coins on the table in front of you and you sigh. “Ok, yes, I have access to a lot of money, but I’m not actually wealthy, Weasley.” He looks incredibly confused and you sigh again, resigning yourself to having to explain the situation.

“Look, you know how I don’t talk much about my family?” He nods, expression starting to calm down. “Well that’s because I hate half of the lot. Sure, my parents are fine and all, but my mother is the only exception on her side of the family. Her parents and siblings, they… well, I suppose they’re fighting on the other side of the war.”

George’s face turns grim and you wince again. “My mother completely separated herself from them. She’s never believed any of that blood purity shite, and so she left the family and married my dad. He’s a muggle, so of course there are no issues with his parents.” You chuckle a bit in an attempt to ease the tension, but George isn’t buying into it.

“Well, I suppose my grandmother still had hopes for me. She left me more money than I know what to do with when she passed. It’s all dirty money, stolen from those she considered lesser than herself. She’s a horrible woman who did horrible things, but she was clever, I suppose. There’s no way for me to properly give the money to anyone else. I want nothing to do with it, but it’s enough that I feel guilty not allowing it to go back into circulation. The economy runs the world, as they say.” Another attempt at lightening the mood falls flat.

You shove your hands into your pockets and shrug at the floor. “Then I decided that the best way to get back at her, to try and right all of her wrongs, was to give the money to the people she would have stolen more from. It’s comfort enough, I guess, knowing she’s probably rolling in her grave. So I give the money to those who need it, or I spend it on my friends. Never myself. I’d feel too guilty if I did.”

You’re too scared to look at George’s face, and so you focus on the floor and toeing the boards beneath you. The shopkeeper is nearly done counting out the coins and you’re suddenly incredibly impatient. You still can’t bring yourself to face George.

For a moment there’s silence, and you feel the inexplicable urge to fill it. “That’s why I never told anyone about it. Money complicates things, and I don’t want people to be my friend in hopes that I spend some of it on them. It’s easier to keep it a secret.” You take a deep breath and finally lift your face up, looking at George. He seems about ready to cry and you don’t know what to do about that.

You continue rambling. “I trust you, though. I know you won’t change how you act because you suddenly know I have access to money. And I know you complain all those times I end up getting you stuff, but please believe me when I say I truly want to. You’re my friend, George, and I care about you. You’re one of the really good things in my life and one of my best friends. I’d never treat you like a charity case, because you’re not. But I want to show you and your family that I care, and… I don’t know. I guess I’m just asking that you allow me to keep getting you the occasional gift or two.”

You’re back to looking at the floor, dragging your toe along the wood. Your face is completely red and you’re not sure why you feel so embarrassed. You’re about to sigh and apologize when suddenly your face is covered with wool and warmth and George’s arms are around you. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s hugging you. It feels more like an assault at first, but then you laugh and nearly cry and hug him back just as hard.

Neither of you say anything, but you don’t really have to.

Eventually the shopkeeper finishes counting the money, clearing his throat to get your attention. You’re sure he’s heard your entire story, and you appreciate his lack of a comment, but you definitely notice the change in how he looks at you. His eyes are much softer, a bit wet, and there’s a kind smile on his face. He hands you back the bag with your change in it, but you wave it away.

“No, please. You were absolutely wonderful, and I appreciate the red parchment. Keep it.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you grab the long parcel off the counter and start walking away, giving him a final wave as you leave the shop. George is right behind you and the two of you head over to the Post Office where you find a nice owl and ask it kindly to deliver the package to your bedroom in Hogwarts tower. You give her a few treats before she flies off and link your arm through George’s pulling him away.

The two of you are laughing on your way to The Three Broomsticks to meet with Fred, Angelina, and the others, when your eyes catch on something and you freeze. There, just down the street, stands Oliver Wood with a few of his friends. He’s laughing again, head tilted to the side with his eyes closed. You slam your mouth shut, as it had previously been wide open, and resist the urge to swoon. The only thing running through your mind is beautiful.

You blink out of your daze when George snaps in front of your face, grinning ear to ear. 

“So,” he says, teasing in his voice. You feel like groaning. “It seems it’s our dear captain who’s captured your heart. Hermione mentioned something about you fancying a bloke, but I’d no idea it was dear Oli.” You grimace at him, shoving his laughing face away from you.

“Oh, shut it,” you say, trying not to let him see your grin. You turn away from Oliver, facing George instead. “I barely fancy him, it’s hardly anything.” You wave your hand in the air so as to emphasize how hardly anything it is, but George’s smirk shows he doesn’t believe you for a second. He has that troublesome look on his face and your eyes widen in panic.

“Oh, is that so?” Before you can do anything to stop him, his hands are cupped around his mouth and he’s yelling. “Hey, Wood! Yeah, Oliver! Come here a moment.” He gestures wildly over at the two of you and your eyes are wider than before. You shove your fist forward into George’s stomach and he doubles over a bit, but he’s still chuckling with that stupid grin on his face. 

Still bent over a bit, he gives you a wink before grabbing your shoulder, spinning you around. Before you have any time to prepare, there he is - Oliver Wood is standing right in front of you, looking fantastic with a black jumper, nicely fitted trousers, and a grin on his face. His eyes immediately go to yours and his grin widens a bit. You stare for a moment until George pinches you on the back and you jump a bit.

“Oliver! Yes, Oliver, hi! How, um, how are you?” If he thinks you’re behaving strangely, he gives no indication of it.

“Great, actually.” His eyes flick to George behind you and he flushes a bit before turning back to you. You want to thrust your elbow behind you, but Oliver’s presence prevents you from injuring your best friend any further. “I was just about to leave my mates to head to the quidditch supplies shop, actually. My mates are all tired of the bloody sport, but I need new gloves.” 

He gives a chuckle and you smile back. Before you can give a reply, George’s hand is on your back, pushing you forward. You stumble towards Oliver, and he reaches out grabbing your upper arms to steady you. You flush and look up at him, giving him an appreciative smile. Then George speaks and you suddenly feel absolutely murderous.

“Oh, well I’m sure she’d love to join you! She was just telling me how she wanted to go there herself, but I promised Fred I’d meet him at Three Broomsticks.” You look behind you and give George your fiercest glare, but he doesn’t appear the slightest bit perturbed. You’ll definitely get him back for this at some point.

Oliver doesn’t seem to notice the tension. His grip tightens a bit on your arms and he glances down at you looking slightly excited. 

“Really? Well, I’d love it if you join me.” You close your eyes for a moment and sigh internally before smiling up at him.

“Yeah, of course. Maybe you can teach me a bit more about all the supplies and stuff. I’m not sure what a lot of it’s for.” His eyes seem to light up and he looks down at you with a strange expression on your face that makes your legs feel wobbly and your heart as though it’s about to burst.

George waves the two of you off, walking away towards the pub before Oliver seems to realize he’s still holding onto you. He drops his hands, giving an awkward smile, before turning towards the shop. You smile and follow. Despite George being a complete prat, you are grateful that you get to spend some time with Oliver. The butterflies have already taken over your stomach, but your heart feels just a lighter than before.

The two of you enter the shop and it’s not until you’re standing in the entrance once more that you realize you’ve literally just been here. The shopkeeper, once he glances up from his desk, notices to and gives a face of recognition. Before he can say anything, though, you check to make sure Oliver isn’t looking and put a finger to your lips with a slight smile.

The old man seems to understand, and gives a nod. He looks over to Oliver before raising a brow, and you can’t help but blush at the implication. You give a quick nod before rushing over to where Oliver’s wandered off, ignoring the laugh of the man. 

Oliver pays him no attention either. He’s already completely focused on the supplies lined on the shelves and you place yourself next to him, following his line of sight.

“So,” you ask. “What kind of gloves are you looking for?” He grins down at you before gesturing for you to follow him as he walks down to another section of the store.

“Well, the gloves are more arm-length gauntlets than anything.” He directs you to the shelf full of what looks much too long to be considered gloves. Your eyebrows raise and he chuckles. “They’re all made of leather, of course, but still. The robes usually cover the rest of them.” He picks a pair up and examines them for a bit.

“They’re thick and padded so I don’t break my arm every time I try to block a quaffle. Very useful,” he says with a chuckle. You laugh as well, picking up a slightly smaller pair of gloves and examining them. You never thought some pieces of leather could be so interesting, but as Oliver continues on about them, you find that you’re listening to every word.

The two of you wander around the shop for a while, him telling you about quidditch and what everything is for and you cracking the occasional joke. It works well, your friendship. You’re fascinated by everything he has to say, and he laughs at all your jokes. It’s nice.

By the time he purchases his gloves the two of you eventually leave, you’re a bit hungry. You look around, and Oliver’s mates are nowhere to be seen. Neither are yours, but you at least know they’re at the Three Broomsticks. You wonder if Oliver knows where his friends are, and if he’s supposed to join them afterwards. You wonder if he’d want to join you at the Three Broomsticks.

You look up at him, mouth open and ready to ask, only to find that his is open as well. You both notice and chuckle, and you gesture at him to go first.

“George said your friends are at The Three Broomsticks, yeah?” You nod, biting your lip. He smiles a bit. “Come one, then. I’ll walk you there.” You’re a bit disappointed that it seems he won’t be joining you, but you smile anyway, walking beside him.

You chat a bit on the way, laughing a bit, when you reach the pub. He opens the door for you and you jokingly bow as you pass by him. He chuckles, following you into the crowded building as you search for your friends.

You spot two patches of red hair that are a bit higher than the rest of the crowd and smile, grabbing Oliver’s arm and dragging him through the crowd behind you. When you finally reach the patches of red hair, you see the twins, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie all sitting at a booth. In the booth next to them are Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny with two of their other friends.

You smile and walk over, returning all of their greetings to you and Oliver. When George sees you he gives a smirk, gesturing to the spot across from him. You walk over, looking up at Oliver before you sit.

“Do you want to join us?” You bite your lip as you wait for his response, and for a moment he’s simply looking at you. More specifically, at your mouth. You let out a nervous breath, forcing yourself to stop biting your own mouth. He seems to snap out of a trance as you do so before looking around.

George follows your lead, grabbing a chair from nearby and pulling it over. “Come on Oliver, join us for a bit. It wouldn’t kill you, surely.” The table laughs at that and you smile encouragingly at him before taking the seat George just pulled up. He seems to want to protest this, surely about to insist that you take the booth instead, but you shoot up a look and grab his hand, guiding him over to the empty booth seat next to Fred.

He shoots you a smile and takes his seat. Your hand is still holding onto his beneath the table, and the two of you are close enough that it’s not uncomfortable. You’re unsure, though, if you should let go or not. You decide to play it safe and begin slipping your hand out from his, but his grip tightens a bit and you pause. You can’t quite read the expression on his face, as he’s paying attention to a story Alicia is telling, but you see a slight smile and some pink on his cheeks.

Your own cheeks turn pink and you slip your hand back into his, turning to George who’s giving you a wide grin and begins wagging his eyebrows at you. You roll your eyes and steal his butterbear, laughing at his offended face.

The bunch of you stay there for another hour and a half, eventually getting up as it gets late. The carriages have surely begun to leave by now, and none of you want to be stuck walking all the way back to the castle. 

As you all prepare to stand, you suddenly panic. You and Oliver have been holding hands the entire time, but it was safely hidden under the table. Now, as soon as you stand, everyone will be able to see it. You glance over at him, unsure of how he feels about this, but he seems to be paying no mind to it at all. When he meets your eyes, he gives you a grin before standing, using his hand to pull you up with him.

Once more, your hands remain clasped together. You see how almost immediately all of your friends notice and stare at it a bit, smiles and teasing grins spreading across their faces, but you pretend not to notice and you think Oliver does the same.

Either way, nothing is mentioned about it and you all gather on your coats, preparing to head outside. You unfortunately have to let go of his hand to slip your coat on and push your way through the crowded pub, but once you get outside you see him standing next to you, smiling down at you with his elbow out. You laugh and slip your arm through his, shoving your hand in your pocket as he does the same. It’s certainly less confusing than holding hands, and doesn’t garner nearly as many stares from your friends.

You all manage to find carriages back to the castle and you hop on, pulling Oliver up with you. By the time all of you get back to the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, you’re nearly out of breath from laughing. 

“All right,” Angelina calls out, clapping her hands together. “That went later than we expected, but it’s time for the gift exchange! You all have ten minutes to change and gather your gifts and whatnot. Got it?”

You all nod and start heading off to our dormitories. You split away from Oliver, and he gives you a quiet, “See you in a minute, lass,” before following behind the twins to his dormitory. You smile and follow Angelina up to your own, happy to see the owl had successfully delivered the broomstick to the correct bed. You manage to close your curtains around your bed before anyone else sees it and cast a quick Reducio on it so it’s small enough to fit in your pocket.

Smiling, you change into a more comfortable pair of joggers and a jumper before pulling away the curtains, seeing Alicia and Katie ready to head down as well. Smiling, you join them and make your way down to the common room. They sit on two of the armchairs at the ends of the couches. 

You three and the golden trio are the only ones down so far, and so you sit on the empty couch opposite the three of them and make small talk. They all have gifts in their hands, Hermione’s small and neatly wrapped, Harry’s stuffed into a bag, and Ron’s simply covered by his blanket. You snort at that and grab a chocolate bar you also stuffed into your pocket, splitting off a piece for each of them as you talked.

Eventually the rest of the group came down, and though you tried your best to not glance up every time someone exits the staircase in hopes that it’s Oliver, you find yourself doing it anyway. The one time it is Oliver, your stomach does a little flip and you immediately look away, pretending as though you were entirely focused on Hermione’s story the entire time. 

You only look back up when he’s standing in front of you, walking by. You glance up and meet his eyes, giving him a smile as he pauses. 

“Is this seat taken?” He gestures next to you. Usually George sits next to you, but you figure it’s payback time for earlier. You shake your head and he smiles, taking a seat next to you. You try your best to listen to Hermione after that, his every once in a while his knee will brush yours and your thoughts go right back to Oliver Wood is so warm and beautiful and right next to me.

When the twins finally make it down, George clasps a hand to his chest in faux pain as he sees his spot is taken. “Betrayal!” He calls out, walking up to the couch and instead flopping down on it, lying across both you and Oliver. You groan at his weight and Oliver just laughs, lifting his hands up so he doesn’t touch George’s stomach or… nether region. Your own hands happily rest on George’s chest and forehead as you ignore him whine.

Instead, however, Oliver decides to put his arms on the back of the couch. It’s not a big deal, as Fred is doing the same thing on the other couch between Harry and Angelina. To you, though, it feels like a very big deal. Every time you lean just a little bit back, you can feel the warmth of his arm on the nape of your neck. You nearly shiver.

“Ok!” Angelina calls out again. “Let’s begin! I’ll go first, and then whoever I have will go and so on. So…” With that, she leans over Fred and hands her gift to Harry who accepts it with a smile.

“It was a bit difficult, deciding what to get The Chosen One and all,” she says with a wink, and he laughs. “But I think you’ll like it.” Turns out she ended up getting him a new Hogwarts sweatshirt, one that isn’t terribly ratty like the one he’s currently wearing, as well as some sweets from Honeydukes. He’s delighted by all of it and is already digging into a chocolate frog when he stands and gives his gift over to Fred (it’s pranking supplies, of course). Fred hands a gift to Hermione (it's a book, of course), and Hermione to Neville.

The chain continues on until Angelina receives her gift and all but four of you have gone. It’s left to you, Oliver, Lee, and Parvati. Lee stands with a smile and walks over to Parvati, handing her a bag. She sighs, because everyone knew this was going to happen, but we’re all readily surprised when this time she hands a gift back with a small smile. You raise your eyebrows and laugh at the surprise on Lee’s face before he sits back down and all the attention is back on you and Oliver.

“Well!” Says George from your laps. With a smile he rolls off, landing on the floor with a thud before grinning back up at you. “Looks like it’s down to you two. How sweet.” With a wink he flops down on the floor, hands behind his head as he watches. 

You roll your eyes but start to smile as you look over at Oliver. He’s smiling as well, but seems a bit nervous as he looks over at you. He lifts the bag in his hands and hands it out to you with a lopsided grin on your face.

“Happy Christmas,” he whispers, loud enough for only you to hear. You don't break eye contact as you grab the bag from him, but eventually look down as you pull away the tissue paper. You laugh when you see what’s inside, leaning your head against the back of the couch and looking over at a pleased Oliver. After impatient protests from everyone else, you pull out the book titled Quidditch for Dummies and grin over at Oliver.

“This is perfect, Oliver, just what I needed.” He grins.

“That’s not all.” He motions for you to look through the book and you do so, flipping between pages. When you see the inside, you laugh even louder than before. Oliver had gone through every page of the book, writing in additions and unnecessary trivia to each section, sometimes even correcting the book or adding on additional information. 

You look up at him, heart in your mouth, as he explains. “I know sometimes I can get a bit confusing when I go off about quidditch.” At this, there are many noises of agreement and he glares around at everybody before turning back to you. “This way, you can learn about quidditch in a way that makes sense. But the book didn’t have everything there, and I thought this way it would be a bit more personal.”

Your heart flutters in your chest as you take in his words and watch him blush. Without thinking, you lean forward, the book clutched to your chest, and press a kiss against his cheek. You linge for a moment before pulling back, ignoring the whistles from around you and smiling shyly.

Oliver’s eyes are wide and his ears are bright red, but he has the goofiest, happiest grin on his face. “Thank you,” you say, and his eyes soften. You’re about to put the bag away when he reaches out to stop you.

“That’s, um… that’s not all.” He flushes a bit more when he says this, and, confused, you look back in the bag. There, at the bottom, is a little box. Furrowing your eyebrows, you pull it out of the bag and place it on your lap, setting the book to the side. You gently lift the lid and go silent at what you see inside. 

George lifts his head up from the floor. “What is it?” You can’t answer him. In fact, you’re not sure you can really breathe. Oliver shifts next to you and you know you should say something, but right now it’s all you can do to stop yourself from screaming.

There, in the little box, is a gold chain necklace. Attached to the chain is a little gold circle with the three quidditch hoops stamped into it along with the words “You’re a keeper.” Still not saying anything, you look up at Oliver, eyes wide. He seems more nervous than before, glancing back and forth between you and his lap.

“I, um…” he starts, gripping his knees. “I had it specially made. It’s not really a big deal, I just thought you’d like it and all, but-” You cut him off, holding the box with the necklace tight in one hand while the other reaches up to grab the back of his neck, pulling him down to you.

When your mouth presses against his, you’re not sure what you’re expecting. Certainly not the feeling of nearly throwing up because you’re so nervous. Or maybe it’s because your stomach is going mad at the concept of you kissing Oliver Wood. You’re kissing Oliver Wood.

You pull back, face flush and eyes wide. You could look at his face forever, shocked and pleased and happy and confused all at once. Your audience of friends are either silent in shock or screaming like madmen. You give him a lopsided grin and reach into your own pocket, gently pulling out his wrapped gift. You pull out your wand as well, casting the Engorgement charm and watch as it grows to full size. Lifting the significantly heavier broom, you place it in his lap.

“Open it,” you say, looking at him. His face has barely changed and all he can seem to do is stare at you in amazement. You crinkle your nose and smile. “Come on, Oliver. I know it’s obvious what it is, but I’d still like to see you open it.” 

He seems slightly snapped out of his reverie as he glances dazedly down at the long parcel in his lap. He starts tearing away the parchment covering it, pulling at the string as well until all the wrapping falls away and all that’s left is a brand new Firebolt. He stares down at it for a while, unmoving and unblinking, and suddenly you know how he must have felt when you opened your necklace.

The others seem to react for him. Harry and Ron jump up to their feet, hollering over the gift. Fred bolts up as well, wonder and shock on his face. Alicia’s mouth is just open, Angelina is squealing, and Katie Bell is knocking Neville over in order to get a closer look.

“Bloody hell!” She cries out, looking up at you. “How the hell did you manage to afford this? That’s way over the price limit!” You sit nervously, unsure of what to say, when George speaks up for you.

“It’s a long story, Katie, trust me. She did not obtain this broom in any reasonable or normal way.” You look down at him, the thank you clearly written out on your face and he gives you a wink back before gesturing to Oliver. Tensing up a bit, you look over to the boy next to you who is still staring down at the broomstick. You decide to explain a bit.

“Well, your broom looked old, I was honestly surprised it could even fly. And, well, we had that conversation about brooms and I remember you saying this is your dream broom, how it’s the best, and well… let’s say a family member owed me a favor, I suppose.” It’s not entirely the truth, but you certainly don’t feel like explaining the real story in front of everyone. Besides, it’s not really a lie. Your grandmother owes you, you think, for being such a bigoted bitch.

He finally looks up at you, and when he does his face looks almost pained, like he’s holding himself back intensely. After a second of eye contact, however, he lets out a deep breath and gingerly sets the broom down on the table in front of you before turning towards you and nearly leaping closer. Grabbing your face in his hands, he quickly brings you in closer and before you have any time to react, his mouth is on yours.

Just as he was before, you’re shocked and it barely registers that you should move. When it does, though, the yelling of your friends disappears and you slide your hands up his arms, one making its way to his hair and the other gripping his bicep. Merlin, what a bicep.

He leans into you, pushing you further against the couch until you’re lying flat on it and he’s leaning into your, moving his mouth against yours as though this is his last kiss. You’re vaguely aware that there are people surrounding you, most likely watching, but you can’t be too bothered, not when his teeth catch your bottom lip in a faint bite and goosebumps spread. He tastes like cinnamon and chocolate and something distinctly him and you are absolutely in love with it.

After what feels like forever and no time at all, a loud voice interrupts you, clearing their throat. The two of you break apart, vaguely listening to Fred as he teases, “Wow, Captain, didn’t know you had it in you.” Neither of you are paying attention to that, though. Instead you’re staring at one another, searching each other’s faces for something. You’re not sure what, but you are sure that you’ve found it when he smiles down at you, eyes soft, and you smile back up at him.

Eventually he glances away from you and at the rest of the people in the room and he flushes, pulling himself upright and then tugging you up with him. He doesn’t let go of your hand, not even when Fred and George begin mercilessly teasing him. You hear Hermione and Angelina especially congratulating you, giggling at your still dazed look. 

You stand, and Oliver stares up at you. You look around for a moment before thinking sod it all. “Oliver and I will be going now. We’ll be back... eventually. Don’t wait up.” With that you tug on his hand until he’s standing with you, face confused but interested. You get laughs and whistles and yells of encouragement from your friends, but ignore them all. All you’re focused on now is getting Oliver out of the common room and up against the wall of an empty classroom.

When the two of you are finally in the hallway, he speaks up. “Um, what are we doing, lass? It’s almost curfew.” You pause and look over your shoulder at him, smiling.

“We’re going to find an empty classroom, I’m going to push you up against the wall, and then I’m going to snog you senseless, Wood.” His eyes widen and ears flush red at this, but an amazed grin takes over his face.

“Merlin, you have no idea how attractive you are right now.” You laugh and tug on his arm again and again until the two of you are running down the hall, looking for the first empty classroom you find. 

Yes, the two of you are going to be teased mercilessly for this, but when you look over at Oliver’s smile and hear the sound of his laugh, when you know what it feels like to have his mouth pushing against yours, it all seems unbelievably worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a link to the necklace I had in mind while writing the ending. Idk if it'll work, but I hope it does. The necklace is absolutely adorable and I think I'd faint if Oliver gave me something like that
> 
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/25684660356029424/


End file.
